Real Name
by Jenny T
Summary: Some thoughts of the mansion residents one lazy afternoon. Started off as a sort of Rogue ficlet, then got _very_ strange. Rogue/Remy and others.


Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, don't sue.  
  
. Ah hate this. Every time someone new turns up at the mansion (and given the professors tendancy ta take in strays, that's about once a week), it's the same  
  
They don't ask at first. No, it takes a couple weeks for them to get up the courage to ask. Like now, when one of the latest recruits sidles up to me, blonde hair, big wide blue eyes. Can't quite remember her name, or what it is her mutation is, but it was something good and nice and useful, or will be once she gets a handle on it.  
  
It's something that allows her to touch, anyway.  
  
We've had a couple of talks and I've helped her out in a couple of Danger Room sessions, so all of a sudden she thinks we're the best of friends. And then she pops the question.  
  
"So, like, what's your real name, then?"  
  
It's times like this that Ah really envy Logan's ability to growl.  
  
Ah know they all wonder. There's a couple of popular theories - one, that Ah did something back home Ahm trying to cover up (what, worse than the fact that Ah used to belong to the Brotherhood and worked for Raven 'Blue Terrorist Bitch' Darkholme?). They already know all mah secrets. It's not like Ahm Remy, or something, with dark secrets hiding 'round every corner, nevah telling anyone the full truth, not even the woman Ah supposedly professed mah undying love for.  
  
Okay, so we're on an 'off' week. But this isn't anything ta do with Remy. Other than the fact that he was the inventor of popular theory number two - that mah 'real' name is something embarrassing and girly - like Marie Bloggs or Gertrude Smith or something completely un-Rogue like.  
  
And that's not true either. The name Ah was given at birth was pretty good, as names go. Mah parents were sensible people. Nice, y'know? Completely unable to cope with their life-sucking vampiric-touch mutant daughter, but nice.  
  
How do Ah explain this then. The girl that name belonged to. somewhere Ah still have a picture. It's torn and ragged and it's been folded about a billion times so it's creased all over. Ah stole it out of mah mothers photo album before Ah left home.  
  
She looks perfectly normal, 'part from that streak in her hair, and she's hugging her mama with all the might in her little arms.  
  
They dressed her in pink, for her birthday party. The cake was chocolate, with pink icing and marshmallows. And she's hugging her mother 'cos she just got a new bike for her birthday.  
  
It's the sort of photo, that if Remy ever saw it, he'd tease me forever. But tease me in that sweet silly way that makes me love him more, and right now Ahm not in the mood for that. Ah sneak a look at him, mah sweet traitor Cajun. Storm better keep her eyes off him - not ta mention her hands. He's mine, and Ahm not in the mood for sharing.  
  
Ahm not much in the mood for explanations either, so Ah just scowl at her, and answer.  
  
"Mah real name, Sugah? Mah real name's Rogue."  
  
And don't y'all forget it.  
  
----------- She's sitting on de couch; my Rogue, scowling because she knows I'm watching her. Funny t'ing; she's only a few feet away, but it might as well be half de world between us.  
  
Sometimes I t'ink dis aint love, it's an addiction. 'Ro's watching me watching Rogue; she doesn't approve, I know. But I don't care; I know dat within de week I'll be back t' her, moth going back t' de flame. And I'll beg, before de end, and she'll take me back; because wit' my submission, I give her somet'ing no one else can.  
  
I give her control.  
  
I peek at 'Ro, cause I can't feel her eyes on my back anymore. I love dat girl - like a sister, so Logan can aim dat scowl of his somewhere else. She's leaning back in her chair; only a fool could miss de way he moves in close, de way she smiles at his presence. And Jean aint a fool; y' can see de look on her face. Not that she ever wanted Wolverine, not in de way he wanted her.  
  
She just doesn't like sharing her toys.  
  
I hope my Padnat knows what she's doing. Playing wit' Jean can be dangerous.  
  
Rogue's dealt with de twit sitting next t' her; she stands up and stretches, smiling. For a second, she looks like she did in dat picture I'm not supposed t' know about - jus' happy, is all. Then she turns t' saunter out of de room and she's Rogue again.  
  
My legs are moving before my mind's even aware of it; dere's a look on 'Ro's face somewhere between understanding and sorrow. I'm sorry, my sister. I have t' go. Don' worry; it's not dat important.  
  
Jus' a moth going back t' de flame.  
  
---------- I am sitting in my usual chair; in the sun, enjoying the afternoon rays and pretending not to watch Remy. Rogue has been giving him the cold shoulder for a week or so - which means no bruises, peeking over the top of his collar; no little wounds which he blames on Danger Room practice. I know better. I'm the one he comes to when she leaves marks - he is afraid to go and see Hank. Afraid of people finding out.  
  
I sigh, inwardly. This little break can't last. Won't last. He doesn't want it to. Sitting here, pretending not to watch Remy pretending not to watch Rogue, I know that he'll go back to her soon. He can't help but want her. She gives him the forgiveness he craves; his penance in each mark upon his skin. What he gives her. he gives her touch. They need each other. You wouldn't think I'd understand. But recently I've learnt much about the darker sides to desire.  
  
I lean back; a simple enough movement, but it brings me just that much closer to him. He's too good at this game to give much outward indication of what effect it has on him, but unconsciously or consciously he leans forward, to inhale my scent. I smile; suddenly realizing that now it's Remy pretending not to watch me. No matter. My brother won't - can't - understand what's really going on here.  
  
It began. I don't know when it began. Just that at some point what was harmless flirting became something different. He leans further forward, lips almost brushing my neck; Rogue says something to the new girl, sitting beside her - and he chuckles quietly against my shoulder.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Later."  
  
He draws back, but not before placing a kiss on my neck that makes me shiver all the way down to my toes. I ignore the smirk that is probably sitting on his face; this is the game we play, and he's very good at it. He'll chase me, or I'll chase him, until one of us gives in - we end up in all sorts of odd positions in all sorts of odd places.  
  
Still, I've never had so much fun in the Danger Room before.  
  
Rogue leaves, and Remy follows her; I didn't see the signal that passed between them, but there must have been something, something unspoken. There's an apology in Remy's eyes as he meets my gaze, and I hope there is understanding in mine.  
  
Sometimes the need is more important than the love itself. That I understand. When I get up in the morning and I have grass stains all over, that's need. When I get up in the morning and he's not there, but there's a cup of coffee on the bedside table and an orchid in a glass of water - that's love.  
  
I'm just afraid that Remy's forgotten how to separate the two.  
  
-------- I know there's something fishy going on, with Gumbo and Rogue. I've stopped asking the Cajun if he's alright, because he doesn't answer properly, just mumbles something, and because the very act of asking makes 'Ro nervous, which means she knows something.  
  
But my instinct's don't lie, and neither does my nose, and most nights he spends with her he comes down for breakfast smelling of blood, his own, and a little lingering fear. But there's desire there, too, on both of them, and that's what's odd. Not that I can't think of a reason or five why that could be, y'know.  
  
The Cajun's easy to figure out. Kid's pretty messed up, lotta guilt there, mostly for stuff that ain't his fault. When you've done the kinda things I've done now and then, ya don't judge - much. If he wants to get himself involved in that kinda crap, make himself feel a bit better, so be it. And if Rogue likes a bit of a power high - might seem a bit strange that a woman who can punch through a wall needs to get it that way - then that's her buzz. Whatever.  
  
And not. Because it's affecting both of them, the way they act, and pretty soon it's going to be obvious enough that even Summers is going to have to notice. Ha. That'd be funny. S and what? Scooter's as vanilla as they come. Jeannie, on the other hand.  
  
She's watching, of course. Telepaths are all voyeurs, when it comes down to it. There's a sudden scent of rain and it's 'Ro, of course, leaning back just enough so that that beautiful hair of hers shifts over her shoulder and her scent wafts over to me. Tease. Jeannie narrows her eyes. ~Bit late for second thoughts now, Jeannie. You had your chance.~ She's either not listening, or she doesn't dignify my thoughts with a response. Cyke's sitting next to her, absolutely oblivious as to what's happening.  
  
I lean forward, wanting to taste her, just a bit. In the corner of my eye Rogue's having a conversation with the new girl, can't remember her name but I think she's a telepath, like we need another one. They hafta be growing them in the basement or something. Instant telepath - just add water. A fragment of conversation rolls over to me and I just have to laugh. Sure can't take a hint, can she?  
  
"What?" asks 'Ro.  
  
"Later," I reply, kissing her neck, just tasting her a bit. Her scent changes just a little - delicious. I think I'm going to have to corner her in the garden again 'later' - although she always does complain about the grass stains. Don't see what's wrong with a few grass stains. ~Grass stains?~ Nice to know Jeannie's still with me. Perverse girl, she is; when I was single she didn't want me, now I'm taken she's all over me. Scott suddenly engages her in conversation, probably glaring at me but it's hard to tell - perhaps he's not as oblivious as all that.  
  
Rogue's obviously done playing with the new girl; she stands up, stretches. She moves like a predator; I ought to know, I am one. And when Gumbo gets up to follow he moves like he usually does, no sound, just a quick glance at 'Ro as if to say sorry. She stiffens a little; I'm going to get the full story out of her, one of these days. But that isn't sorrow in his eyes; it's an apology, yes, but he looks and he moves like a man going to his destiny.  
  
Hell, who are we to deny either of them that. But there's something about the whole situation that gets my hackles up; worth keeping an eye on. Not that I care about what happens to Gumbo, or anything, but 'Ro would probably be upset. Can't have that, can I?  
  
Nope, just wouldn't do.  
  
--------- Without being a telepath, you probably couldn't understand just how complicated everything is around here. Scott's sitting next to me, rubbing my right shoulder because I injured it in the Danger Room - again. I've got to keep out of Logan's head during practice - his thoughts are too damn distracting. Used to be good for an ego boost, but now he's gone over to Ororo - without any warning, either - they're just distracting.  
  
Scott doesn't notice a thing 'round here. Rogue's screwing Remy into an early grave, Logan and Ororo are making googly eyes at each other over breakfast, which is enough to make me sick, and. oh for heavens sake. What's she doing now?  
  
Storm just leans back, flicking her hair over her shoulder as if it's the most natural thing in the world, and he leans in, a rather sarcastic thought in his mind aimed at me - I ignore it. They're just flirting, and it shouldn't mean anything to me at all. It doesn't mean anything to me at all. He kisses her neck; the thoughts going through his head are positively indecent. Grass stains! The chuckle in his mind awakens me to the fact that I'm projecting. Damn. Scott picks that time to start some inane conversation, as well. Sorry, hubby. Was I ignoring you? Doing my best, at least.  
  
Rogue storms off somewhere, Gambit following her like a puppy dog. It's times like this I really wish I could get through his shields. I bet his thoughts now are real interesting.  
  
Ah well. I've still got the 'Logan and Ororo show' to keep me occupied.  
  
---------- It's difficult sometimes, keeping a straight face. Exactly how stupid do they think I am? The great clueless leader. Occasionally, to amuse myself, I keep a list of the things I know, that people don't know I know, deep within my mind behind shields that only other person in the mansion knows about - and it ain't my wife.  
  
Some of them are small things, like the fact that, contrary to popular opinion, that is Jean's real hair color. Others? Well.  
  
Logan and Ororo have spent the last few weeks copulating in the most unlikely places - including the Danger Room - note to self; volunteer for monitor duty more often; make Bobby clean out the Danger Room next time he annoys me.  
  
Jean, meanwhile, is killing herself with jealousy - although she wasn't interested in Logan when he was single, available and willing, now he's involved with her supposed best friend she suddenly wants him. She's watching Wolverine flirt in an obvious manner with Storm; still pretending I don't notice, I engage her in one of our 'automaton' conversations, just to annoy her. After so many years of marriage, both of us can keep up our end of the discussion without conscious thought; sometimes I use that to my advantage, other times it's a good way of making sure she isn't poking around - times like this I know she's not paying any attention at all to what I'm saying, doing, or thinking.  
  
Don't get me wrong - I love Jean. Do you think I'd put up with her if I didn't?  
  
Where was I? Oh yes. The other sordid little 'secret' going round the mansion is Rogue and Gambit's night-time activities - really, the walls around here are paper-thin, and it gets pretty obvious. None of my business, until the second Gambit starts to hesitate in Danger Room sessions: note to self - make up more reasons to send one of them off on a mission somewhere far away every now and again. The whole room is watching Remy follow Rogue off to wherever - I carefully school my face into it's usual blank expression.  
  
You know, it's insulting really. They all must think I'm stupid or something. Note to self: schedule more 6am Danger Room sessions.  
  
I love being the only 'morning person' in the mansion.  
  
A/N: Well that was. bizarre. I really must stop eating chocolate after midnight. Hehe. 


End file.
